Folks,

Blogger took the proverbial "dump on my head" yesterday and allowed no posting. So here's yesterday's entry in it's brutal entirety.

People,

Florida, Day One:

So we arrive at our hotel on the 80 degree wonderulness known as Friday. You gotta check this place out www.thebreakers.com. Ho-lee crap.

This place is 5-star, top notch pampering at its finest. Everything is attended to. You sneeze and someone offers you a tissue. You fart and they bring you a candle. You mention someone you want dead and they bring you the rifle. This really isn't an exaggeration.

Anyway, this pampering can sometimes go too far. As we were checking in there was a guy who's whole job was to make small talk with the guests. Now, you may be surprised by this, but the last thing in the world I want to do is be forced into small talk with a 60 year old dude who becomes the most passive aggressive bitchy queen when you aren't interested in his opinions on rock and roll. Whatever.

After we checked in we hit the pool and spent the rest of the day with the fellas and their wives. We not only had our own cabanas but also our own cabana boy. I think that after about an hour of being brought diet cokes and magazines and generally just being waited on by Michael I realized that I could probably get used to this.

After a couple hours of sun we all went out to dinner. Let me re-iterate an earlier point - why wouldn't you want to live where it's warm all the time? Not only can you always walk around with a t-shirt on, you can also ride a motorcycle all year round and the ladies are a spectacle of plastic surgery gone mostly wrong. LBS and I dubbed it 'Silicon Alley South', and I ain't talking about technology (nudge nudge, wink wink). I am, as always, a huge loser

Anyway, so in the midst of this hot and humid boob parade we managed to have a superb sushi and steak dinner.

At this point I not only had gotten used to this high life, I was ready to apply for the full-time job of spending other people's money. It, how do you say, rules.

Now, as I sat wondering how I had gotten to this point, with a plate full of filet mignon and eel sashimi, I somehow hadn't realized that everyone else was PLASTERED. And this, people, is where the fun started.

Tomorrow we'll cover the ensuing drunken shenanigans.